


Little Feathers

by flollius



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: And Ori is a shy virgin, Believe it or not it's not a modern AU, But he just wants to keep being a reckless kid, Cuties, Everyone tells Kili to grow up, GOD I LOVE THIS PAIRING, Harmless romcom, Kili is a total manwhore, Limited to Kili's POV, M/M, awkward almost-sex scenes, but there's smut too, coming-of-age story, hope that's ok, kili you stupid lil shit, pre-AUJ, precious babies, this fic is my therapy, this is gonna end well
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-10
Updated: 2014-04-23
Packaged: 2017-12-29 00:30:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/998709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flollius/pseuds/flollius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kili's the sort of person who would never usually look twice at Ori. With a well-notched bedpost and a certain reputation, there's only one thing he's ever really had from his lovers. But there's something special about the shy little scribe, and he just can't seem to let go. But dating Ori means Kili has to give up his nights of reckless abandon and work on being a proper boyfriend, which turns out to be a lot harder than Kili ever realised. </p><p>A story about life, love, growing up, and a little bit of heartbreak.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am ridiculously excited for this.
> 
> CUTIES. AND SMUT.
> 
> And Kili/Ori. I just have the massive feels for this pairing like you don't even know. I'm so excited to write the both of them as stupid dumb kids who keep fucking everything up. Well, Kili fucking everything up and Ori putting it all back together. 
> 
> I have to warn you a bit though - Kili is a little bit of a self-centred dick in at least the first couple of chapters. So if he's not immediately likable then good. He's not supposed to be. Writing Kili as an immature brat is beyond fun.

“Kili. Oi. Kili. Arse outta bed, c’mon.”

“Oh, bugger off.” He was a mess of limbs and tangled hair, half-out of the sheets and reeking of ale. “Ugh.”

“I said, arse out.” Fili was never kind to his brother in the mornings. Not when it was self-inflicted. “You have a visitor.”

“A what?” Fili caught a glimpse of wide brown eyes beneath a birds’ nest of dark locks. “This early?”

“Early? It’s past noon. Hurry up. Mama needs your help carrying the coal down and you _promised_ her you would fix the roof this afternoon.” He found Kili’s trousers in a puddle mess on the floor, throwing them in his face. “Looks like you had fun. These are _filthy_. Get up and get dressed. Think you can eat?”

“Ugh, not yet.” He pulled on his trousers in a mumbled haze, eyes half-open. “Who’s c’ming to see me this early?”

“I told you, it’s not early.” Fili leaned back through the doorway. “And it’s Ori.” _Ori?_ The shy little bugger who worked as a scribe in Stonegrove? Kili couldn’t remember ever speaking more than three words to him at a time. Why was he calling on him _now?_

But yes, there he was. Kili stepped into the front room, pulling on his ratty undershirt. Ori waited by the door with his hands clasped together, looking around anxiously and trying so very hard to not look out of place in the cluttered little room.

“Ori?” He croaked, mouth dry as sand. His head hurt. “Uh... What are you doing here?”

“Kili, hi.” Ori broke into a nervous little smile. Kili scratched the back of his head, shuffling to the table and offering Ori a seat. “No – I can’t stay long, I just wanted to say hello. And um – well, I wanted to take you up on your offer.”

“My offer?” Kili eyed him through a tangle of hair.

“Well um, yes.” Kili pushed the locks away from his face, staring blearily at the tabletop. “You er, you do remember, don’t you?” He looked up, frowning a little at the nervous dwarf lingering by the door. “The... street... Oh _Mahal,_ you don’t.” Ori pulled his scarf over his mouth and lowered his eyes. “I s’pose you thought it was just a laugh...” His voice lowered to a mumble.

“Probably. But try me anyway.” Kili flashed one of his signature smiles, the ones that made the girls blush and the boys bite their lips. “What did I offer you?”

“A drink.” He was blushing like a _girl._ Kili bit back a snicker and rested his chin on a clenched fist. “You ran into me – knocked all my things out actually... Then you dashed off and said sorry you couldn’t help... but you’d buy me a drink later.”

“Did I do that?” The smile widened. Kili flicked through his memories – last night was a jumbled haze, bright and wobbling and he couldn’t remember more than a few fleeting glimpses. But it sounded like something he would do. “All right – why not then? Tonight. Meet me at the Cock and Pussy just after sundown.”

“Th-the _what?”_

“The Cock and Pussy.” Kili leaned back, with that stupid grin still fixed on his face. “It’s my favourite watering hole. Never dry, if you know what I mean.” He winked, and Ori squeaked in his throat. “It’s in Stonegrove.” He referred to the town of Men, a mile east of their dwarven home. “Just on the edge of the eastern wall. You can’t miss it.”

“All right.” Ori bowed – _did he just bow to Kili?_ He arched an eyebrow, confused. “I’ll see you there. Sundown. At th-the Cock and Pussy.” He looked uncomfortable, just saying that. Kili shook his head as he watched the odd little dwarf go, leaning back to throw his boots on the table. Little Ori, eh? Awfully young and not that much to look at, but Kili always had a thing for redheads. And who knew what he was hiding under all those bulky layers of wool?

* * *

 

He waited beneath the swinging sign, leaning against an old barrel.  Ori stared down at his hands in the greying light, trying to smooth out his gloves. He picked at snags in the wool, smoothed his beard, self-consciously ran his fingers over the braids in his hair. Kili stood back, watching with his arms crossed as Ori tried desperately to groom himself one final time.

He grinned.

“Ori.” He sidled up to the dwarf with his hands in his pockets. “You found the place.”

“You um, you weren’t joking.” Ori pointed up to the rusty sign, a faded, peeling picture of a cat playing a fiddle while a rooster strutted and crowed. “I thought it meant... Something else.”

“Oh, it means that too.” Kili grabbed Ori’s elbow, hustling him inside. “C’mon.”

“Kili!” It was a loud, noisy tavern, filled already with snatches of drunken song, red-faces, swearing, and the odd flying fist. The beer-maiden was a very pretty thing, all long red tresses and wide smiles and a very low-cut bodice. She leaned across the bar, almost spilling out of her dress entirely. “You again!”

“Mags.” He still held Ori by the elbow. “Pour us a drink, will ya?”

He took the little scribe over to a dark corner, just the two of them with a stuttering candle. ‘Lovers’ table’ they called it. Mostly because there was a rather large wooden post blocking the view of half the pub and you could do _anything_ under the table without being caught.

Ori choked on his ale. “Anything?”

“Anything.” He leaned across, resting a hand on Ori’s knee. “Won’t lie, I’ve gotten my knees dirty a few times on these old boards.” Kili winked, thoroughly enjoying the way Ori reddened and hid his face in his tankard.

He was a shy little thing. Kili had to drag answers out of him, stumbling and downcast. He had a tendency to fiddle with those _damn_ gloves. Kili bought them another round, Ori the next. And another. He finally started to open up to Kili, slowly lifting his eyes. He jumped and gasped when Kili’s hand started drifting up his leg, looking like he wanted to say no but wasn’t sure if he _could_. He learned Ori was a scribe, just an apprentice but four years off journeyman. His oldest brother ran a restaurant and his second brother was ‘a dwarf of many talents’ which was a load of bullshit because Kili had gambled in back alleys with Nori dozens of times and while he may have been a skilled thief, a dice-thrower he was not.

“And you?” Ori wiped at his mouth, baring a tentative smile. “What does Kili do to make a name for himself?”

“Me? Nothing yet.” Kili traced a line in the woodgrain on the tabletop. He realised he wanted to run his fingers through Ori’s hair, feel those auburn braids on his skin. He reached out now, curiously taking a plaited lock and rubbing it between his fingers. Ori froze, voice strangled. “Fili’s a smith of _course_. He’s almost a master and Thorin’s so very pleased. I can’t decide.” His lower lip jutted out in the beginnings of a thoughtful pout. He examined the carvings on Ori’s clasp, letting it fall back against his chin. He had the softest beginnings of a beard, sparse and thin. Kili wondered how old Ori really was. “Thorin’s telling me to hurry up and if I don’t decide before I’m fifty, he’ll choose for me.”

“Well – what do you want to do?” Ori wrapped his fingers around his wooden mug. “What can you see yourself doing for, say, two hundred years?”

“Nothing!” Kili’s eyes widened. “Mahal, I’ll never be that old if I can help it.” He sighed. “I like running in the trees. I like shooting and chasing.”

Ori downed the last of his ale. “Sound like a Ranger.” Kili stared at him. “Y’know... Menfolk who live a bit east of here. They don’t have homes, just camps. They live in the trees, like elves, ‘scept they hunt and patrol, like soldiers but not. ‘Cause there’s no _armies_ , just little groups, and they’re always wandering about, from place to place.”

“That sounds _wonderful.”_ Kili was being genuine. Ori looked up from his empty mug, a little frown knitting his eyebrows. “Don’t you think? Nothing in the world but what you can carry. No room to clean, no chores, no one nosing in your business, no _rules._ Just trees and rocks and wind, for hundreds and hundreds of miles.”

“I’m sure they have their own rules...”

But Kili was already off in his own world, letting that imaginary world unfurl before him.“Tell me more.” He grabbed Ori’s hands, both of them. His fingers curled tight around the scribe’s gloved wrists. “What else do you know?”

Ori didn’t know much about what they did now, he explained. They were a mysterious, shadowy people, but they had one of the most fascinating histories in Middle-Earth, if anyone cared to look. Kili hung on to every soft, fuzzy word. He watched Ori’s lips moved, watched the way his hazel eyes lip up and darkened. He wasn’t the sort that Kili went for. He liked his lovers loud and bright and brash, like him. He thought he would have to force himself to sit through an awful stilted attempt to ‘get to know each other’ before slipping off in the darkness, so they could pretend that it could have meant something and that what they did wasn’t all that bad, not really.

But he _liked_ listening to Ori. He liked the stories told. He liked watching Ori talk. And he liked the fact that Ori wanted to talk to _him_ most of all. So he waited until Ori had stopped talking, until his eyes lowered and he said he didn’t know anything more, before standing up and leading the little redhead by the hand out of the grimy pub, with Mags catcalling behind him.

“Where are we going?”

Kili grinned in the dark. “A place I know.” The gates were closed but he knew a side-door. His heart was racing inside his chest, anticipation building in his limbs. He couldn’t _wait_ to see what Ori looked like beneath all that clothing, how big he was, what tricks he knew, how he tasted. Ori stumbled along behind him, the crescent moon only a vague gleam of silver against the rocks and grass. “Watch your step.” The path between Stonegrove and their home in Belegost was a mile of sharp stones and gravel. But Kili led Ori down a different little winding track, down, down, bottoming out into a shallow glade.

“Oh – wow.” Ori stood and stared, squinting through the dark. Kili tightened his hand on Ori’s wrist, feeling the little nub of bone just beneath the wool. He could barely make out that silhouette against the stars, his clasps gleaming. Kili reached out and took one of his braids again, standing close enough to feel the warmth of Ori’s breath. He ran his finger along it, up to the scalp. Ori quivered at the touch. His hands came up, gripping Kili’s shoulders as though he didn’t know quite where else to put them. Tentative. Unsure.

But Kili didn’t have any lingering doubt. He felt the heat from Ori’s limbs, his trembling, hitched breath, remembered the near-constant flush of his cheeks, and he knew that deep down, Ori wouldn’t have any doubts either. He kept holding on to that little braid, and with the other, he cupped the back of Ori’s neck, guiding him in, closer and closer until their lips finally met.

He felt Ori tense up at first, every muscle stiffening, and his fingers dug in painfully tight around his shoulders. It was the shock of it, and as Kili deepened the kiss, gently using his own tongue to pry Ori’s lips apart, he crumbled and dissolved and fell apart, right in Kili’s arms, with a low, soft moan. He released his fingertip-hold on Ori’s braid and grabbed his hair by the handful, pulling hard on the scalp as he angled the scribe’s neck a little more to the side, deepening the kiss.

Kili idly wondered if Ori had even _kissed_ another before _._ He was so gangly and awkward, he didn’t know how to hold his jaw or where he should put his hands. His hand drifted down from his neck, along Ori’s spine. Ori shuddered into him, another moan bursting from his full lips. Kili _liked_ that, he liked it a lot, and he wanted to do it again. He fumbled for the edge of Ori’s heavy knitted cardigan, untucking the layers of wool and cloth from his trousers.

Ori broke apart for a gasp of air. “K-Kili-”

“Shh.” He pressed short kisses to Ori’s lips, begging him to open up. His hands found skin, covered in a light fuzz of soft hair. Ori’s breath choked in his lungs, his body tightening as Kili’s palms skimmed across his back, fingers getting into every knot of bone, every dip and hollow in his skin. He lifted Ori onto the balls of his feet, carrying him as he leaned forward, further and further until the grass tickled the small of Ori’s back. Kili crouched over him, knees on either side of his hips with his hands now gliding across Ori’s chest, pulling the layers of clothing up over his stomach.

He explored, dragging his fingertips along that unknown skin, pulse quickening with every hitch of breath that broke from Ori’s lips. Kili was good at what he did, and he knew it. He was _excited_ for this. Ori was soft and rounded, almost like a woman, with his little belly and his thin arms. It wasn’t often he found himself in complete control of another male like this, either man or dwarf. He was going to enjoy it. Kili traced the lines on his torso, breaking apart for air and pressing his lips in the corner of Ori’s mouth, along his jaw against the soft inch of his beard, down to the curve of his neck.

“Kili...” Ori arched his neck at the touch. His hands were on Kili’s sides, holding on tight. His voice was thick and muffled. “Kili – I don’t think...” But Kili wasn’t listening. He shifted his legs, digging one knee between Ori’s thighs and prying them apart.  The blood rushed in his ears and he felt himself ache at the sound of Ori’s choked breath. His nose cornered the juncture of Ori’s throat and collarbone, marking the pale skin with hot, wet kisses. “Wait...” Kili trailed his right hand down the fur on Ori’s soft stomach, over his bellybutton, down...

“Kili _no!”_ Ori pushed his fists against Kili’s chest, forcing his lips away from his neck. Kili gasped, crouched frozen over the younger. One hand was up his shirt, the other four fingers deep into the waistband of his trousers. Kili had forced Ori’s legs apart, thigh pressed tightly against his groin. He held his breath as Ori gasped unevenly for air, fingers curled into his tunic. “ _Stop_.”

It was like being doused in cold water. Kili’s frown was invisible in the dark, scrunching his forehead until his eyebrows hurt. He withdrew his hands slowly, kneeling on the grass as the shadowy outlines of Ori stumbled with his clothing, rearranging his tight trousers, straightening his shirts and tucking it all back in. Ori sat up with his head bent between his knees, breathing heavily.

“I don’t understand.” Kili watched the faint gleam of silver in the dying moonlight as Ori lifted his head. He was genuinely confused. He thought the evening was going so well, Ori didn’t push his hands away once, he laughed and talked and blushed and bit his lip the way they always did. “I thought that’s why you wanted to see me...”

“It’s all right.” Ori sounded humiliated _._ He pulled his scarf up over his mouth. “Don’t – _please_ don’t mention it.” Kili could _just_ make out the whites of his wet eyes in the fading moonlight, glinting in his face like two stones. He shuffled under that stare, bowed his head and hoped his own eyes didn’t have that same ghostly look. After a long time, Ori sighed and turned away, wiping his running nose.

Kili looked down at his hands, but they were invisible in the gloom. “I’m sorry.”

“I should go home.” Ori’s voice was small and sad. Kili felt his stomach tightening at it, cramping in a painful ache.

“Let me walk you, at least.”

It was a long time before either of them deigned to speak. Ori kept rubbing at his nose and eyes until they stopped flowing. Kili reached out, searching for Ori’s wrist, but Ori kept his hands clasped together and Kili couldn’t touch him.

“Where do you live?” Kili winced at his own strained whisper. It didn’t sound how he should, not at all.

“Over Dori’s restaurant.” Ori sounded tired, his voice still thick. “On the main street, just beyond Oin’s place.” Kili nodded silently in the dark. There were still a few lanterns burning. He got to see glimpses of Ori, his back and shoulders mainly, his face in profile. He kept his eyes down, kept turning away from the light. Kili’s hands, for the first time in his life _,_ felt slow and stupid. His skilled hands, who could make _anyone_ climax in the time it took to boil an egg, worth their weight in gold, smooth and fluid and precise, they felt clumsy when he tried to reach out to Ori. It was _frightening._ No one had ever turned Kili down – not ever. Certainly not when he already had their hand inside their underwear but Ori had cried out and shouted for him to stop. Kili curled his hands into tight fists.

“I’m sorry.” He finally whispered, pausing outside the door to Ori’s home. “I s’pose...” Kili didn’t know how to explain himself without sounding stupid and loose and easy. He bit back a sneer. That’s because he _was._ “I’m sorry.” He repeated, drawn-out. But he leaned in, catching Ori’s sharp face in the light of Dori’s window. He pressed his lips against Ori’s cheek, the way he would if he was going to be respectable. The way he should really. But Ori was still, a carved stone statue. “I had a good time, besides.” He tried to smile. “Thank you for telling me about the Rangers.”

“Good night, Kili.” Ori’s voice was heavy. Was that regret Kili caught that soft murmur? Ori opened the door, cracking it open to slip inside. Kili’s mouth was dry as he watched half of him disappear into the golden light.

Kili stepped forward. “Wait-” Ori stilled and drew back. Light spilled over half his face, soft and golden as butter. He frowned plainly, sparks of gold in his ginger hair. “Let me apologise again.” He stretched out his hands but didn’t dare to touch the little ginger in front of him. “Another drink. Just a drink, I swear.”

The frown melted. Ori tilted his head to one side, looking down at his shoes as he mulled over Kili’s proposition. Silence stretched into long, painful seconds between them. But finally, with Kili’s heart thudding in his ears, Ori lifted his eyes, staring at him with a little half-smile twisting his mouth.

“You’re buying.” Kili nodded, tongue-tied. “And _I_ get to pick the place.”

Kili opened his mouth, and the words finally stumbled out. “I swear.”

Ori’s half smile broke into a grin. He leaned forward, and this time he kissed Kili on the cheek. Kili closed his eyes, feeling Ori’s lashes brush his temple for a brief moment as lips made contact with skin.

“Good night Kili.” But his voice wasn’t low and sad and heavy that time. He closed the door, shutting Kili out in the dark with the blood throbbing in his head.


	2. Chapter 2

“Which one do you think, the green or the blue?” Both were stretched out across the bed. Kili stood before it in his undershirt, arms crossed as he nibbled on his lower lip. Fili leaned against the doorframe with a little smirk, left foot crossed over his right ankle. “The green’s a little tighter but I like the gold braiding on the blue.”

“You look pretty in anything, it doesn’t matter.” It wasn’t intended as a compliment. “Are you seeing that little scribe again tonight?”

“We’re going to the night-market in Stonegrove, yes.” After another moment’s thought, Kili took the blue, threading his arms through the sleeves. “Not like you to take an interest in my love life all of a sudden. Usually you don’t want to hear it.”

“Ori’s not the type you normally go for.” Fili sat on the edge of the bed, toying with the sleeve of the green tunic. “Kili, what’s your game?”

“I don’t have any _game.”_ Kili rifled through the mess on his little chest of drawers, searching for his comb. “He’s nice, all right?”

Fili rolled his eyes. “Uh-huh. And what did you get up to three nights ago, huh?”

“We talked.” His brother shook his head, disbelieving. “Honestly, we just talked.” Kili ripped the comb through his tangles, scowling.

“Oh, come here.” Fili got up on his knees, holding out his hands. Kili sat down obediently on the edge of his bed. “Look – don’t blame me for being cautious all right? You’re usually hanging around with people more... experienced than Ori is.” He combed through the ends of Kili’s hair, slowly working his way up. “I don’t want you hurting him.”

“I won’t hurt him.” Kili’s eyes were lowered. A hot, uncomfortable tightness began to grow in his stomach at the memory of that night, of Ori pulling back, gasping for air, shocked and humiliated at his startled reaction. “We’re just having fun, Fili. I won’t jump his bones if he doesn’t want it.”

“And what happens when you get bored and drop him, like you always do?” Fili murmured, dragging the metal teeth through the brown locks. “When something better comes along, or when you’ve had enough, or you’ve screwed it up and broken his heart?” The teeth of the comb raked along Kili’s scalp. “What then?”

“It’s just a _date_.” Kili stood up, pulling himself free of the comb with a painful tearing of snarled hair. He winced in pain, rubbing at his scalp. “Mahal Fili, why are you being like this? Just leave me be, won’t you?” He turned away and crossed the little room, looking for his clasp. “Ugh I left it here somewhere...”

“Don’t _hurt_ him, Kili.” Fili reapeated, reaching out and grabbing his wrist. Kili jumped at the touch. How was his brother able to sneak across the room so quietly? He was pulled in to look at Fili, brown and blue meeting. “If you’re not interested, break it off quickly. Don’t string him along for weeks and then get caught in bed with some cheap thing you picked up at that _damn_ pub you’re always at.”

“Oh Fili, honestly.” Kili fixed a smouldering glare on his brother, lip pursed in a scowl. “Who do you take me for?” He stalked out of the room before Fili could respond, but his call echoed along the passageway, turning Kili’s cheeks red.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

* * *

Kili found himself smiling as he saw Ori standing beneath the string of lanterns near the first stall. He looked smaller than ever, surrounded by men and women that towered over him. He was chewing on his fingers, trying to suck something black off. He paused and frowned, looking for several moments before realising that it was ink. He must have spilled it on himself and work, and was unable to clean it off.

“Hey.” He made Ori jump, sidling up to him. He whipped his hands out of his mouth and wiped them on his trousers, face red. Kili kissed him on the cheek, _liking_ the way Ori bit his lip and looked away. Mahal, how could someone be so _cute?_ “Had a look around yet?”

Ori shook his head. “I was waiting for you.” Kili laughed and grabbed Ori by the hand, threading his clean fingers through inkstained ones. “Did something keep you? You’re, um, late.”

“Oh, am I?” Kili shrugged. “Didn’t notice.” He started to pull Ori along behind him. “C’mon, let’s check it out.”

They walked slowly, examining hats and gloves, little carved figures, rings of brass and silver, silk purses, woven scarves, and dainty painted cups. Ori hung back, looking with wide eyes. Kili leaned forward, picking up everything and running his hands over the fine cloth, earning sharp glares and grumbles from the stallkeepers. He barely noticed. The pair walked hand in hand, pointing and nudging and lingering. Kili caught Ori looking at a little wooden ship. It was crafted from wood as thin as matchsticks, thin thread and stretched silk, meticulously painted.

“Oh, Kili _look.”_ Ori reached out but didn’t dare to touch the fragile little ornament. It was less than four inches long. “The golden sails... the five-pointed star...” He looked up at the stallkeeper. “Is this a Númenor ship?”

“ _Very_ well-learned, master dwarf.” Kili poked at a little painted figure of a dragon, half-listening. He looked to the side, watching Ori’s face light up in pure excitement. He’d never even _heard_ of the Númenor before, must have been a mythical race in one of Ori’s books...

“Oh, it’s so pretty.” Ori turned away, shoulders bowed. “Come Kili, let’s go.”

“If you like it, then buy it.” Ori looked up at him, a little frown creasing his fair brow. “How much is it?”

“I don’t have money for toy ships.” Kili watched the little twist of his friend’s mouth, and with an awkward throb in his throat, realised he’d quite put his foot in it. “No matter. Maybe someday.” He angled his face away from the lanternlight. His grip was loose in Kili’s hand. “Let’s keep moving.”

They stopped after a time for some hot buns made from a starchy white bread and filled with gravy-soaked pork. They climbed up onto the stone wall, Kili pulling Ori by the hand, and ate side-by-side, their bodies warm where they were pressed together. Kili finished first and licked the gravy from his fingers, looking up at the glimmering sky. Stars protested against a thin veil of cloud, scattered in handfuls against a sky as black and soft as velvet.

“It’s quite pretty, isn’t it?” He hummed a little, swinging his legs. “Mahal, I never learned a thing about the stars as a dwarrow. I s’pose I just wasn’t listening.”

“No, it’s not that you weren’t listening,” Ori leaned his head on Kili’s shoulder. Kili in return, starting to run his fingers over Ori’s leg, forgetting. He felt the scribe jerk, breath hitching, and his hand fell still. “It’s um – it’s not your fault.” He stammered. “The dwarves don’t have names for the stars, apart from Durin’s Crown. They don’t really care about them, being underground all the time. It’s just... distant I suppose. Remote.”

“What a shame.” Kili murmured. “What about Men? Do they have names?” If anyone knew, it _had_ to be Ori. The stallkeeper was visibly impressed that Ori knew what the little ship represented, and he still remembered what the other had said about the Rangers of the north, their history that stretched back thousands and thousands of years.

Ori turned to him, a shy little smile on his face. “Do you really want to know about the stars?”

“Yes, why?” He blinked as Ori jumped down, falling quite clumsily on the cobblestones. “Ori?”

“Let me show you.”

* * *

They stood about half a mile away out of the village, beyond a rocky slope that hid most of the golden light. It was a long walk but Ori promised it was worth it. The new moon had vanished from the sky. They walked through the darkness onto a wide grassy plain. The stars were _magnificent_. Kili threw his head back and stared, mouth open as he stared into the vast, open space of the cosmos.

“Two years ago, I transcribed a book about astronomy for an alchemist.” Ori’s fingers were still linked in Kili’s. “It was so big, it took days. I smuggled it out one night and copied as much as I could at home. There were star-maps and charts... It was beautiful.” Ori murmured. “It was an Elvish book. I don’t even know where they had got a hold of it. But, I learned how to map the stars.” He freed his hand and sat down on the grass with his legs spread out. “Sit.” He patted the grass next to him. Kili obeyed. They both lay down, shoulders and arms touching, looking up at the unhindered night sky.

“This here, you see this bright sky?” Ori pointed. “That is Carnil. The elves say it’s not a star, but a body of land and water, like Middle-Earth and the lands beyond it.” Kili held his breath. “That there, that’s Earendil’s Star, another body of rock.”

“Wow.” Kili whispered. “Do you think there are people – like us, living and breathing and looking down at us?” He suddenly felt very, very small, lying in the grass staring up at the cluster of stars he couldn’t name.

“Maybe.” Ori too was speaking on the edge of his breath. It was a sacred, quiet moment. “See those three stars, very bright, in a line?” He pointed. Kili nodded. “That’s called Menelvagor. The Swordsman of the Sky. They say it foretells the Final Battle, where the forces of good and evil will fight to the end to decide the fate of our world.” The both of them lay silent, for what felt a long time.

Ori spoke up after a while, his voice a little warmer. He pointed out more stars and constellations, the Elvish names making Kili’s head swim. Eventually he mentioned one he thought Kili could name. “Can you see Durin’s Crown?” Kili frowned, peering through the indeterminable mess that still meant little to him. He remembered most of what Ori had said, and he could see the shapes and stars, but couldn’t pin those foreign names to them. After a long time, he sighed, sadly shaking his head.

“No.” He felt heavy with regret. “I can’t see it.”

“It’s here.” Ori pointed to the eastern skies. “See the cluster of seven stars? It has so many names. Valacirca, the Burning Briar... It’s the most important constellation in the sky. It’s said that Varda herself placed them in the sky to warn Melkor.” Kili got up on one elbow, studying that vague outline of Ori’s face. “Hm?”

“How do you _know_ so much?” Kili frowned down at him. “Why do you know all these Elvish constellations and about that ship and those Rangers... You’re younger than me but you’re the smartest person I know.”

“I’m not smart.” Ori looked away, clearly abashed. “I just... I read a lot. I copy and write every day, and I take the books home and read them at night.” Kili watched his lips move. “I like stories Kili. I like history and maps and legends. I mean – look.” He sat up, pointing at the stars. “There is _so_ much out there, beyond this mountain range, this _world_. Look at these thousands and thousands of stars, and the blackness beyond it. Doesn’t it frustrate you Kili, when all the dwarves too, every _day_ is dig deeper and deeper into the earth and let all of this go on around them? _Look_ at them! Look at the stars, Kili! There are _so_ many, but the dwarves have only bothered to name a single constellation!” The breath came out of him, heavy and impassioned. But Kili wasn’t looking at the stars. He was looking at Ori.

And then Ori’s shoulders slumped, he looked down and his lip, retreating. And in an instant, he was Ori again, rubbing the back of his neck and looking embarrassed. “I’m sorry.” He whispered, hiding his face from Kili as though he could see his red face through the darkness.

“Don’t say sorry.” Kili’s hand was back on his leg. He wanted to see that odd creature again, so violent and bright, with shining eyes and heaving lungs. He wanted Ori to raise his voice and fling his arms out. His heart was beating inside his chest like a mad drum, and he couldn’t begin to imagine how Ori must have been feeling then. “Ori, can I kiss you?”

“What?” Ori sputtered, pulling his scarf over his mouth. “Wh-why?”

“Because I want to.” Kili tugged at that dratted scarf, revealing Ori’s lips, his jaw with the soft trace of a beard. He kept pulling until the knitted wool fell to the grass and Ori’s neck was bare. Ori’s breathing started to get heavy and quick again and he gripped Kili’s sleeves, his fingertips cold.

“Yes.” Kili grabbed the front of Ori’s tunic and _pulled_ him in, wasting no time in closing that distance between their bodies. This wasn’t like the last time, where Kili fumbled beneath the scribe’s clothing, where he was rushed and sloppy. He took his time, his tongue and lips slow, almost languid in the darkness. He pulled Ori into his lap, with his legs around his waist and stretched out on the grass. He kept his hands outside of Ori’s tunic for now, running his fingers through Ori’s hair. Ori kept his hands palmed against Kili’s chest, as though making ready to push him off at a moments’ notice. Kili kept it slow and soft, kept his own body still and his hands limited to Ori’s hair and shoulders.

He’d forgotten how _nice_ it was just to kiss somebody, to hold them in his arms and feel them breathe without that sweaty promise of something more. He kissed Ori with a tenderness he hadn’t felt in a very long time, with a soft profession that this was _it_ for now, but that was all right, because in that still moment, it was perfectly fine just to kiss. Ori’s body was almost indistinguishable from all the lumpy layers of wool and cloth – he could almost be _anything_ underneath the cardigans and Kili wouldn’t know the difference. He wasn’t even thinking about sex – and Mahal that _certainly_ had to be a first – just about how _nice_ all of this was, how Ori’s velvety tongue slowly learned to move and curl around his, how his flattened hands began to slowly drift upwards, fingers winding through soft brown locks that were already starting to tangle again.

It was like showing Ori the steps of a dance, then stepping back and watching him take a turn. Kili relaxed his jaw and allowed Ori to gently take his face in those inkstained hands, running his warming fingertips over the rough scratch of stubble, dipping into the soft hollows beneath his cheekbones. He let Ori deepen the kiss himself, feeling the downy fluff of beard brush against his chin. They kissed for a long time, pausing for deep gulps of air and diving back into each other, until the flush of Ori’s cheeks told Kili that they really had to stop before he suffocated himself. He pulled back with a final kiss on Ori’s nose, resting their foreheads together and watching the shadows of Ori open his eyes.

“Wow...” Kili giggled at the reverent whisper, arms loose around Ori’s neck. “Kili, that...”

“You’re getting _good._ ” Kili pressed their cheeks together, whispering in Ori’s ear. He felt the other stiffen in his lax grasp, heard a soft chuckle in the night. “Who have you been practising with?”

“No one!” Ori pulled away, alarmed. “Kili, I’ve never kissed anyone else, I swear. Mahal-”

“Calm down idiot, that was a joke.” Kili gently ran his fingers through Ori’s bangs, feeling a thin sheen of swear beneath the hair. He blinked as Ori’s words hit him though, realisation sinking in. “Wait – never?” He peered through the gloom. They would have to start finding somewhere more well-lit for their private trysts. He was starting to get sick of trying to imagine Ori’s face in the darkness.

“N-No, not really.” Ori mumbled. “Most people aren’t interested in someone like me, y’know. The dwarves that like males... They tend to like big strong warriors, or someone sleek and handsome, l-like you.” Kili listened to him, unsure if he should grin or frown. “And I know you like dams and dwarves and, well, you like _everybody_ really, but I-I don’t.” He bit his lip with a little shrug.

“I do like everybody, I suppose.” Kili leaned back a little, thinking. “I’m not picky. If anyone’s interested, I’ll give it a go.” He flashed a smile, but his little quip had the opposite effect he desired. Ori looked uncomfortable, fumbling in the grass for his scarf so he could pull it back over his mouth.

“A go.” He repeated, giving up when Kili found his wrists and held on tight. He looked like a hurt puppy, staring with wide dark eyes, and Kili couldn’t fight an _awful_ rushing guilt in his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut and remembered what Fili had said to him that afternoon. _He_ was just having fun but what did Ori want from this? Why was Kili his first? Had he _seriously_ never been asked before? Kili refused to believe it. Dwarves cut from Ori’s cloth were too hard to find, and he knew someone like Balin or Oin, someone who liked the soft-spoken younger types would have been all over Ori at the first opportunity. No, Ori had been holding out, _waiting_ for the right dwarf to tentatively venture forward with.

Kili started to feel rather sick.

“Not... Look.” His tongue felt thick and clumsy and he didn’t know quite what to say. How was it that Ori always made him feel so heavy and slow and stupid? It seemed all Kili could do was put his foot in it and make himself look like an oaf. His jokes fell flat and Ori took his thoughtless asides straight to heart. It was _infuriating_ already. He wanted to shake Ori and tell him to lighten up. But at the same time, he felt guilty for hurting Ori’s feelings. “Can I tell you something?” He started to play with the buttons on Ori’s tunic, not looking him in the eye. Ori nodded. “I’m not fussy but... I like certain, well, certain people more than others.” He blew his fringe out of his eyes, picking through the words. “Men and women, they tend to like _me_ more than our people do, because have no beard and my nose is small and I’m still thin. But I don’t favour them. I just don’t turn them down, you understand?” Ori was silent. “And, well, I _do_ like dwarves more than dams.” He slowly admitted. “I mean... dams are lovely and they’re so pretty and there’s nothing like having a nice pair of... Anyway.” He coughed. “I like dwarves more... and... you said that we tend to like big strong warriors.” Kili was tracing shapeless patterns on the front of Ori’s chest. The scribe was watching him intently. “But... I don’t.”

“You don’t?” Ori breathed in the dark. Kili shook his head.

“Big and burly is good for a night I s’pose but I don’t look them out. They’re usually the ones into _me._ ” His lip twitched. “I like taking more than giving... you er, know what I mean?”

“ _Oh!”_ Kili knew Ori’s face was red. The heat _radiated_ from his flushed cheeks. Kili bit back a grin. “I um, I think I know what you mean...”

“You ask a warrior in his hundreds if he’d like to be taken by a forty-seven year old dwarrow and see how far you get.” Kili chuckled. “But the point is Ori... I like _everyone_ , but I guess what I’m trying to say is that what I like best of all is people... well, people like you.” Mahal, why was it so hard to get the words out? Kili wanted to slap sense into himself. All those tricks that he knew, the flirting and the smirking and the special glances, they were gone, and here he was, almost as red-faced and stumbling as _Ori._ It was like being drunk but without that wonderful blanket of warmth dulling his senses. He just felt clumsy.

He heard a sharp intake of breath, of shock or surprise or joy, Kili wasn’t sure. That is, until he felt Ori’s hand on his cheek, trailing along his jaw and brushing his lips. And then Ori leaned in, close enough for Kili to _just_ see that the other dwarf was smiling, his heart pounding beneath Kili’s hands on his chest.

“Kiss me again.” Ori whispered, their lips a hairs-breadth apart. And Kili did.


	3. Chapter 3

Kili didn’t know exactly _when_ it became a daily thing to pick Ori up from work and walk him home. Three weeks passed and Kili saw Ori almost every day. Sometimes, it was brief, just the mile-long walk home ending in a soft kiss at Ori’s door. Sometimes, they stayed out _far_ too late, stumbling home in a grey morning light, fixing each other’s hair and trying to keep their tipsy voices to a whisper. Sometimes they stopped off for a drink or a quick bite of dinner, or if Ori felt particularly daring, they would dip off the track and hide in the low trees, or around a fold of mountain-stone, or in a little cave-crack. They took baby steps, treading inches every few days. Ori was _so_ shy, to the point of sheer exasperation. Kili tried to work slowly, his touch featherlight across Ori’s skin.

After a several stop-start attempts, Kili managed to unbutton Ori’s shirts and part the homespun cloth to reveal soft pale skin. Ori was self-conscious and stammering, the first time Kili saw him shirtless in the light. He crossed his arms over his stomach and tried to turn away. Kili held him down, hands on Ori’s arms and peppered the furred skin with kisses, the stubble of Kili’s jaw grating against untested skin and making him shriek and giggle. Kili was grinning himself, enjoying the smell of his skin, the strain of Ori’s muscles beneath his hands. _Everything_ was perfect, but as his chin scraped the buckle of Ori’s belt, the dwarf let out a choked gasp, one that made Kili’s blood run cold. His grip fell away like water and he looked up to see Ori scrabbling for his clothes, the buttons crooked and shirt half-undone as he tucked it into his waist.

It _always_ went like that, no matter what Kili did. He saw how the little redhead bit his lip and moaned and threw his head back, he _knew_ Ori wanted this, but the moment his hands drifted below the waist, it was as abrupt as a breaking thread. He would retreat into his shell and pull away, and Kili would be left frustrated and bewildered. Kili didn’t know what he was doing wrong - no one had ever turned him down before, certainly not after repeated attempts. Was he losing his game? He couldn’t wrap his head around it. How was it that Ori obviously didn’t _want_ him, yet whenever their eyes met, he broke into the sweetest, widest smiles, the ones that made his heart beat just a little bit faster and his cheeks colour and his wrists feel too thick in his suddenly-tight sleeves? The question stuck in Kili’s throat, whenever he tried to ask it. Ori quelled every rumble of discontent when he looked at Kili, and he found he couldn’t speak a word, all he could do was awkwardly look down at his hands until he thought it safe to try another kiss.

And when they did kiss, it was _magical_. Every brush and bump of Ori’s nose, every hitch of his breath and curl of his fingers in Kili’s clothes and hair, it sent shivers down his spine, pooling in his gut and sinking heavily, leaving him aching with unsatisfied need.

He took care of himself, frequently. It was easy enough during the day, pretending he needed to use the outhouse or change into warmer clothes, or that something was lost under his bed. Kili had a hoard of memories and fantasies to draw on, but it didn’t take long for him to sharpen his focus. It very quickly became all about Ori, and as Kili lay in bed at night with his nightshirt around his waist, pressing his face into the pillow so his voice wouldn’t travel through the thin walls, his imagination running away with himself as he pictured Ori on his knees taking him in mouth and hand, or bent over before him, or…

When he had the luxury at night, Kili would lie awake after he’d cleaned himself up, peeling the hair back from his face and wondering if perhaps there was something wrong with him. He’d had the most beautiful girls in his bed, all curves and soft skin, and the best of the smiling young men too, shy and daring all at once with their flawless bodies. But the memories of those previous conquests, they couldn’t make him groan and shudder the way his fantasies with knobbly, awkward Ori with his peach-fuzz hair and soft, fleshy stomach. He became _obsessed_ \- all he could think about in his spare time was Ori in bed with him, how quiet and unsure he would be, how Kili would guide him through every step and bring that passion out in him, a spring flower breaking the winter frost, how he would make Ori entirely _his._

He became scared - how was _one person_ able to do this to him? Kili felt drugged. He retreated inwards, and when Fili or his mother asked where his mind had wandered nowadays, he flashed a shadow of his old flirtatious grin and said he was all right. Then he usually added that he needed to use the outhouse for a quick moment. Kili knew what they would say. His mother would click her tongue and roll her eyes. _Lovesick_ she would sigh and then ask why didn’t he invite Ori around, make him feel comfortable in their home and Kili did _not_ want that. Fili would tease him relentlessly, punch him in the arm and say maybe Kili’s virile nights of multiple conquest were finally over and he would settle down like a _proper_ dwarf, and that made Kili twitch in anxiety too. He didn’t _want_ to settle down. He didn’t want to endure painful dinners with Thorin scowling across the table and Mama doing her best to keep the peace. He didn’t want to keep feeling like this. He just wanted _Ori._

Tonight, they crossed the path in the sunset, and made it inside Belegost as the sky sank into a purple twilight. Ori had to help Dori cover the dinner rush, he apologised as he left the scrivener’s shop to find Kili waiting as he always did, leaning boredly against the wall and blowing hair out of his eyes. Kili tried to make him walk slowly, stealing kisses when he could, tugging him towards their secret hideaways as they passed. Ori could only shake his head and laugh, red-faced, murmuring that he _really_ had to be there before the sun went down or Dori would be _furious._ He whined eventually as Kili tried to hold him in the reddening light, turning his face to the side and whispering that he was already late, and could Kili _please_ not do this, not now?

Their parting kiss was brief and awkward, and they both knew they upset each other. Ori laced their fingers together and murmured _tomorrow?_ Kili nodded, his skin throbbing where it came into contact with Ori and he watched Ori turn to leave, stealing a brief glimpse of his backside hidden in loose trousers as his tunic rose in a brief stretch of thin arms.He could feel himself tightening below the abdomen. Trying to inconspicuously rearrange his clothes in the sparse crowd, Kili slipped into the first little dark side-street he could find. He couldn’t go home and face the concern in Mama’s eyes, or his stupid brother’s teasing grin, giving a brief excuse before darting into his room. Kili walked down to the edge of an underground stream, one used by wives and mothers for washing in the mornings. It was abandoned now, the only light bouncing in brief candle-flashes on the rippling water. He curled up between two rocks, his face red in secret humiliation as he fumbled with his belt and hiked his shirt up over his waist.

Afterward, when he’d washed his hands at the river and dabbed at his slick stomach with his sleeve, Kili knelt on the stones with his head in his hands. He still _ached_ , still needed. Still wanted. He battled the urge to turn on his heel right now, march straight to Dori’s restaurant and shake Ori by the collar and ask him, in front of _everyone_ , why Kili wasn’t good enough to sleep with. It wasn’t _fair_ \- Kili was doing everything right, he thought. He was trying to be a good boyfriend, waiting for Ori every night, walking him home, never once pressuring him into something he didn’t want, listening when he talked and smiling at all the right moments, telling Ori he was beautiful and meaning it. _Why didn’t Ori want him?_

Once the stinging in his eyes had faded and Kili was sure that his eyes weren’t red and swollen, he stood up, blundering about a little in the darkness as he headed back towards the brightness of their little town. He found himself walking towards Dori’s place, where the windows were pulled open, golden light spilling out onto the street. He could see Ori now, carrying three plates on his skinny arms, a grubby apron around his waist, drawing attention to the gentle curves his baggy clothing usually hid. He stopped at a table, with four big, burly dwarves, beards stretching to their waists and arms thicker than Ori’s head. Kili bit his lip as he watched the lumpy little dwarf bend over to serve the food, one of the dwarves taking the opportunity to rest his ham-sized hand on the curve of Ori’s backside for a moment while the others threw their heads back in laughter.

Kili’s lip curled in a snarl and he curled his own deft hands into fists, marching briskly across the dark street towards the restaurant. He watched Ori withdraw silently, heart pounding in his ears. He _shook_ with the urge to restrain himself, to hold back from walking inside and breaking a dinner-plate over the dwarf’s head. He didn’t care if he was outnumbered, he didn’t care if they would gang up on him and turn his pretty face into a bruised pulp, he didn’t care if he upended tables, he didn’t care if Ori screamed and begged for him to stop, he didn’t care he didn’t he _didn’t_ -

Kili stopped about three feet from the door, his body half-in the pool of light on the street. He throbbed, every inch of him, and as he made to step inside, he could see Ori come back, the last dish in his hands. Kili stilled, it was as though he was paralysed, seeing his little Ori (But was Ori _really_ his?) skirting carefully around the cluttered tables. Kili couldn‘t move. He could only stand and watch as Ori made his way across the room. The awkward bowl cut of auburn hair lifted; with a gasp, Kili turned from stone to flesh, darting out of the light and backing away into the shadows, nails carving deep red crescents in the palm of his hand.

 

He ran away. Kili was too jumbled, too mixed-up and throbbing to deal with looking at Ori, with having Ori look at _him._ He kept running until there was a stitch in his side and his lungs heaved. Kili leaned heavily against a stone wall, sinking down to the ground with his head between his knees, fingers twisted in the fabric of his trousers. _Damn_ him! _Damn_ him and his stupid, beautiful smile and his soft eyes and his bony hands and his unsure kisses and his bare-whisper voice…

Kili needed a drink.

By the time he reached the Cock and Pussy, Kili could feel himself on the point of snapping. He felt like a sheet of metal that had been hammered too thin, that would cave in at the softest blow and break into a twisted wreck. He ordered three tall ales first, drinking one after the other until his stomach groaned, bloated and his head grew fuzzy.

“Oh, honey.” Mags leaned over the bar, a dirty rag slung over one shoulder, chin on flattened palms. “You look a mess.”

“Another one.” Kili pushed the last empty tankard across to her, voice hoarse. “Please.” She sighed and complied, taking the copper coin. “Cheers.” He mumbled into the ale, breathing in foam and malted barley.

“I know that look.” She wiped at a spill. “Romantic troubles.” Kili made a noise in his throat, swallowing a warm mouthful of ale and wiping at the dribble on his lips.

“He doesn’t want me.” Kili said bluntly. “I’m trying but he’s - he’s not interested in me. He’s like a monk.” He made a face. “I don’t know what I’m doing Mags - he’s driving me _crazy_ and I don’t think he even realises. He’s - he’s so… Oh _Mahal_ I don’t even know.” He started to slur his words, the tankard already half empty. “Am I wasting my time?”

“Oh, poor thing.” She paused for a moment, thinking. “Sounds to me like you’re on two different pages. Have you sat down with him, and, y’know, _talked?”_

“We talk _all_ the time!” Kili sputtered. “He’s so _smart_ , he knows everything about _everything_ and he can go on for hours about the stupidest things.” His face reddened. He’d never admit that it was one of the things that he liked best about Ori, watching him unfurl and wander, spread his wings in flight as he talked animatedly about what sort of fruits they grew in the Dorwinion province or early Third Age lyrics or the history of Rohan or a million other useless nuggets of information he gleaned from his books. It was like a spell winding around Kili and holding him fast.

“No - about you. About what you both want.” She looked like she wanted to hit him, taking his tankard and another copper coin. “How you feel, sentimental crap like that.”

“Ugh you know me. I’ve never talked about that with _anyone.”_ Kili’s bloated stomach rumbled uncomfortably. “I just want to have fun Mags. I don’t want this _stress_ and anger and heartache.” But then Mags was pulled away and Kili was left alone, nursing his man-sized tankard that was almost the size of his head, as he thought uncomfortably about how much of this he _didn’t_ want.

Kili’s head was swimming by the time he saw the bottom, the earth tilting beneath him and his hands clumsy and disconnected. He stewed in his own head, torn as all that repressed anxiety and frustration about Ori spilled over and pooled on the ground and rose higher and higher and higher and threatened to drown him. That stranger touching Ori, their awkward kiss goodbye, walking hand-in-hand as the sun set, feeling him laugh as their chests touched, the sensation of skin beneath his hands... He didn’t know how to feel - how he _should_ feel. All he knew was that Ori made him want to laugh and cry and scream all at once, it left him feeling horrible in his chest, he couldn’t endure the pain yet at the same time he couldn’t bear for it to stop.

When someone rested a hand on his shoulder and murmured in his ear, Kili could have cried with relief. Through the blurry haze he made out a pair of light blue eyes, fine-cut lips and a smooth, angular face, framed in black curls. He couldn’t tell if it was a girl or a boy until those lips parted and Kili heard his voice, clear and rich and sweet as honey.

Would Kili like a drink? He certainly would. They toasted, although Kili didn’t know what to, exactly. The boy leaned against the bar with one elbow propped on the wood, his other hand drifting to touch Kili’s shoulder, his arm, his knee and Kili let him, that strange touch crushing those awful thoughts about Ori like an iron hammer into tiny fragments that blew away with a simple breath of air.

Kili lost track of time. He didn’t remember talking, or drinking, or _anything._ He didn’t remember walking, or falling, but he must have because when he came to there was a graze on his knee and his pants were torn. The scrape was dull, and although he was bleeding, Kili couldn’t feel anything. Then there was a hand on his arm, pulling him up, laughter in his ear. Kili grabbed handfuls of damp cloth that smelled of sweat and ale, leaning against a slim chest. And then and then--

There were lips. Hands. His back was against stone and Kili didn’t know if he was sitting up or lying down. The boy was _kissing_ him, his tongue prying Kili’s lips apart, soft as velvet and those wonderful hands were pulling at the edge of his shirt, letting himself in. He could feel a taught thigh between his own legs, rubbing gently and nails grazing his skin, toying with the waistband in the small of his back, someone was groaning and he thought it might have been _him._

The thigh shifted abruptly against him, demanding and desperate. The quick motion was like a hand pulling Kili out of a warm bath into frozen winter air. His eyes snapped open, mouth and hands full of this boy and in a horrible, horrible moment he realised what he was _doing._ He pulled away with a cry, panic souring in his throat as his stomach lurched. No no no no _he couldn’t do this he was with Ori_.

He pushed with hands and feet, untangling himself from this lovely knot of a boy with his soft black curls. With cries of confusion punctuated with swearing ringing in his ears, Kili staggered to his feet, one hand on the wall as he pitched forward unsteadily, wavering on jelly-legs. He was outside somewhere, he could feel the wind, chilly against the sweat and spit smeared across his face. Kili sank to his knees as a crippling pain flooded in his gut, forehead pressed against rough stone.

He threw up. Most of it got on the ground, some on his trousers, a little on his shoes. Kili gagged and gasped for air, drunk, blind and deaf with guilt and dissolving into helpless sobs as the world crashed in a foggy haze around him.


	4. Chapter 4

Somehow, he made it home. Kili didn’t remember how, but he awoke in his bed, with his mouth furry and bitter, scrapes on his knees and his trousers torn and a boot missing. It took a few minutes for him to remember, through the haze of red pain and the roaring thirst in his throat. He clutched his stomach and groaned when the memory came back to him, the light-blue eyes and smooth face framed in perfect black curls. He just remembered kissing the boy, the silken feeling of his cheeks, the velvet-softness of his tongue and a slender leg pressed between his own. Everything else was as black as pitch. Stupid, stupid _stupid._ Kili bit on the corner of his pillow and squeezed his eyes shut in sick regret.

When the thirst grew too much to bear, and he was sure there were no footsteps in the rest of the house and he thought he could walk without throwing up, Kili staggered out of bed. Fili’s bed was long made. There was mud on his hands, and all over the bootless foot. Kili sank down in the front room with a groan, sipping slowly at a mug of watered ale and trying not to heave. He had to tell Ori. He _had_ too. This town was too small, he didn’t know who could have seen him, and gossip spread so fast. Ori had to hear about this from Kili’s lips. The self-hatred bloomed inside him and he could already feel the heartsick loss of the sweet dwarrow, as though he were already in mourning.

Kili washed slowly with a bucket of warm water, wincing at his purpling knees. Those were the worst, the badges that told a story he couldn’t remember. Had he fallen down some rocks? Was that why his head hurt so much? He pulled off his his mud-soaked things and left them all to soak in the wash-bucket, drying himself before the fire and pulling on his green tunic and spare trousers, and his old boots that had a split seam and were a little too small. He patched the leather as best as he could with Mama’s needle and forced his feet inside them, wincing. The nausea had faded and he was finally ravenous. Kili found some bread and cheese and ate slowly, one hand fiddling with the gold braiding that gathered at the hem and sleeves.

Everything he did with a distant autonomy, thinking in his head about what the _hell_ he was going to do with Ori. Should he take him out first, somewhere nice for dinner that wasn’t _too_ expensive? Should he get him nice and drunk, so he would at least be a little cheery, when he took the news? Or should he just come out with it, the moment their eyes met outside of Ori’s day-work? _I was unfaithful._ The cheese curdled in Kili’s stomach and he groaned. He knew he wasn’t perfect, he never _tried_ to be perfect, but this disgusted him and he knew it was wrong. It wasn’t the first time he had been dishonest, but this wasn’t one drunken fling intersecting with another and getting awkward and nasty. This was _Ori_ , sweet, shy little Ori who never deserved an ounce of this. Kili wasn’t worthy of someone as good and innocent as him and – well, what happened last night was just proof of that.

With the accusations ringing in his ears, Kili slipped out before his mother could come home and catch him. He was a good while early, the sun was still quite high and Ori wouldn’t be done for ages. With the afternoon warmth on his back, he wandered around the winding path between Stonegrove and Belegost, looking for any sign of his boot, footprint or smear of blood that could fill in that vacant night, an explanation for the worst. But he found nothing, and when the sun began to sink down into the horizon, Kili turned his face towards the village, his heart as heavy as a rock in his gut.

He didn’t have long to wait. Ori came out with his brows knitted together at first, staring at the milling cluster of people and trying not to look like he was doing it. But when he caught Kili walking towards him, his face lit up with sunshine. It stole the shallow breath from Kili’s lungs and when Ori hugged him briefly, Kili felt himself slowly melting inside. He held on longer than he knew he should, his cheek against Ori’s shoulder, breathing in and trying to remember every part of this.

Ori laughed and pulled away. “I’m so glad you came.” His fingers brushed Kili’s cheek. “I was so _nervous_ all day Kili, wondering if you were even going to show up. I know we left things in a bit of a huff and I was so terrified I’d mucked it, but...” He caught himself in his babbling and smiled again. “We’re all right, aren’t we?”

Kili burst into tears. It was all too much, Ori’s shy smile and the light in his eyes, the memories of somebody else thick in his head, the burning guilt and confessions crowding together on his tongue. It was all too much and it bottled up inside Kili until everything overflowed. “I-I-I...” He tried to speak but his words were a broken, jumbled mess.

“Kili?” Those inkstained fingers were on his arms, eyes wide with fright. “Oh, Mahal, what’s wrong? You’re shaking, oh come here.” Ori wrapped those soft arms around him, gently stroking the back of his neck. “Let’s find somewhere quiet, they’re all staring.” Kili gritted his teeth and blotted at his eyes with his gold-trimmed sleeve while Ori led him quietly away, looking with little side-long glances for a bit of quiet space. He found a narrow back-alley that didn’t smell too awful, shooed away a feral tabby, and stood with his body angled between Kili and the outside world. “Are you all right?”

“No.” Kili finally had control of himself. He rubbed at his face, smearing the thin tear-tracks across and tried to clear his head. This was going to destroy the both of them, he just knew it. Ori would never ever want to speak to him again, he would call Kili a disgusting liar and he would be so _right_. “Ori – I have t-to tell you something.” Brown eyes stared resolutely down at his too-small boots, his shoulders slumped under the burden of his confession.

“Oh?” There was a rising note of fear in his voice. Ori licked his lips, the soft, familiar sound tightening Kili’s writhing stomach. “What’s wrong?” Thin fingers closed around his wrists. “What’s got you like this?”

“I did.” Kili whispered. “Ori I – I did something very stupid.” His eyes were on Ori’s knees. “Last night – after I said goodbye to you, I got – scared, angry, confused I don’t know what it even was. I was just hurting and I wanted it to stop.” Oh, he was pathetic, trying to plead his case like this. Kili sniffed. “So I had a drink –well, I had a few drinks. More than a few. I don’t even remember.” He stared at Ori’s hands around him. “Everything is just this one blur that goes dark and I can’t make it all out. But there are parts – that I do.” Kili gritted his teeth. “I remember kissing someone else.”

Ori’s hands vanished. “ _What?”_ Kili finally looked up to see the scribe’s eyes filling almost immediately with tears. Ori reeled back as though Kili had hit him, two high spots of colour in his pale cheeks. “What do you _mean?”_

“This – boy.” Kili raked his nails across his cheeks. “I just – remember kissing someone, n-not a dwarf, and these hands and – I don’t remember anything else. I don’t remember coming home – I don’t remember _anything_ Ori I’m so sorry.” His own tears were coming back, blurring his vision and turning the outlines of Ori into distant, vague shapes. “I-I’m s-so sorry.” He gasped, knees weak. Kili remained hunched in on himself, cringing away from Ori and expecting some sort of blow. He would. He would _hit_ himself, hard, shake himself and demand answers. It’s what he had done all day, screaming inwardly until his ears were ringing. Kili backed away from Ori, striking against the wall and that was when his knees gave out. He slid to the ground, drawing his legs up and burying his head in between them, trying to disappear. This was it – it was all over, he had ruined it and Ori would never ever _ever_ want to see him again after this. The best thing he’d ever had, and it was over before it had barely started.

“Kili,” there was a voice at his elbow, “look at me.” Ori’s soft voice made his stomach turn completely to liquid. “Please.” He lifted his head slightly, keeping his nose and mouth hidden. Ori was down beside him, on his knees. The constant wiping at his eyes and the little shaking of his shoulders revealed how much he was trying to hold back. “Why?” He fiddled with his bulky scarf, but his eyes locked on to Kili, his lower lip trembling. “Wh-why did you... do that?”

“I don’t know.” Kili’s toes felt cramped. Everything ached, his head buzzed with exhaustion and he was starting to feel sick again. He mumbled the words against his forearm, so soft that Ori had to lean to hear it. “I wish I hadn’t – more than anything Ori I never wanted anything like this to happen, I promise. I never wanted to ruin this.”

“Then why would you _do_ something like this?” Ori swallowed. “If I mean s-so much to you then _why_ would you be so stupid?”

“I don’t know.” Kili moaned. “Because I’m an idiot. B-Because I haven’t _done_ this before Ori, going out with one person all the time, and keeping it clean – this is just as new to me as it is for you. And...” He trailed off to try and collect his thoughts.

Ori pounced. “And what? I’m new to this too Kili but I know better than to go around kissing other boys.” Kili stared back, dumb. “Do you know how many people I’ve had warning me about you? N-Not just your brother and Dori – people I see at the restaurant, at the market, who I barely even know beyond a how do you do, they tell me to watch out for you because you’re nothing but a tomcatting heartbreaker, bringing trouble all about town.” He screwed up his face. “And they’re _right.”_

 _“_ No, they’re not.” Kili panicked and finally shifted his arm, his voice rising as the terror welled over. “Please Ori – that’s not me anymore, I _promise_ you. I’m changing, I swear. I-I won’t do anything like this again, not ever. If you just give me one more chance...” Ugh. Kili fell silent in instant regret, realising how stupid he sounded. He wouldn’t going to throw himself down and beg Ori for forgiveness again – it would just embarrass the both of them. What was the point when what he had done was so totally, utterly unforgivable?

Ori leaned against the wall beside Kili, eyes turned up to the sky. He sucked in a breath of air so hard his cheeks hollowed, his jaw thrust out in deep thought. The silence, punctuated by a low murmur of the outside world, grew longer and longer and Kili could feel the tightness rising in his stomach flooding into his chest, and he steeled himself for the final blow, for Ori to throw him away, just like he deserved. Finally, those hazel eyes lowered to the wall opposite them both. “What were you scared of?”

“Oh Mahal, why does it _matter!”_ Kili cracked. “Just – get it over with Ori. Just hit me and tell me I’m a filthy pig and let us get _on_ with it.” He gritted his teeth and scrubbed at his eyes, letting out a little raw sob that wasn’t missed.

Ori turned to look at him, with his knees drawn up. “I-Is that what you want?” Kili peeked at him between his fingers and brushed his messy hair back, face flushed and streaked with silver.

“No.” He couldn’t look at the dwarrow. “It’s what I _deserve_. I’m disgusting Ori, a-and I know it.” Kili’s raw voice fell silent and he stared down at his crooked hands. “You deserve someone ten times better than me, someone... perfect.”

And Ori read him. He stretched his hand out slowly, fingers resting on Kili’s elbow. That tangled mess of dark hair slowly lifted. Ori watched him carefully, wiping at his running nose and trying so obviously hard to keep himself together. Oh, he was so _hurt_. It made Kili’s own heartsick agony sharper, to see Ori so destroyed like this, to know that he had done it. “You said you were sc-scared?” Ori swallowed down a hiccup, his brow creasing. “Of me?”

“Of – everything.” Kili let out a shuddering gasp. “You, me, _this_ – everything. I feel like I’m losing my mind y’know, every day I’m f-finding it harder and harder to just hold on and keep everything in, it’s like I’m – I’m going to break, any moment now, everything is just so _tight_ and I don’t know what to do with myself.” It all flooded out in that breaking relief that there just _might_ be a way to salvage this. “I-I’ve never felt like this about anyone else before Ori and I don’t know what to do.” Ori gaped at him, his chest still heaving. “I don’t know how to fix this.”

Slowly, Ori shuffled towards him. He rested his arm a little higher on Kili’s arm now, near his shoulder, and with the other he carefully tried to push the damp tangles back from Kili’s flushed face. Kili leaned into the touch on instinct. “You’re so stupid.” Ori was whispering. “What am I going to do with you Kili?” He didn’t sound angry anymore, just sad. Hurt and sad and Kili had done all of it. He wanted to bash his head against the stone wall. Ori brushed his fingers over Kili’s closed eyelids with a soft little sigh. “Mahal, I wish you weren’t so handsome.” Kili opened his eyes, daring to hope.

“Please.” Kili threw his pride out the window. He didn’t care if it made him look pathetic, he didn’t care if he humiliated himself, not anymore. He just wanted Ori to hold his hands and forgive him, more than anything. “I won’t go back to that pub again, I won’t talk to any of those people. Ori, I’ll do anything you ask just _please_ give me one more chance.” His own hands reached out, scrabbling for the nearest piece of Ori he could touch, even though he knew he wasn’t worthy of it. He rested his hands on Ori’s knees, gripping him desperately. “I-I’ll never ever ever do a thing like this again, I promise with all my heart.” Ori stared back with a quiet look in his eyes, a little downward turn of his mouth that made Kili’s chest throb with a new surge of panic.

“You’re an idiot.” Ori was so indignant. He _glared_ at Kili, his chin thrust out in a sort of displeased exasperation.  “You’re the stupidest boy I’ve ever met Kili.” His brown eyes stung and Kili cringed away from him, waiting for the hammer to fall. “But…” Kili’s heart froze. “I know you didn’t mean to do this.” Ori breathed in, as though he were about to plunge into an ice-cold pond. “And I know you’re sorry, and - Kili, I’ve liked you for _ages_.” Kili stared at his lowered gaze, the nervous hunch of his shoulders. “I must be a bigger fool than _you,_ because... I-I don’t want to let you go.”

Kili _threw_ himself into Ori’s arms, wrapping his arms around his neck and burying his nose into that smooth bit of skin under his ear. He was babbling, his voice an incoherent muffle of how he would _never_ do this again, he would be the best boyfriend anyone could ever hope for, he would treat Ori like a deity and fall at his feet and show his devotion forever. Ori held him around the waist, arms loose as he listened to Kili in utter silence.

* * *

They walked home slowly, with their finger loosely entwined. Kili tried hard to keep up conversation and only got mumbled responses. Ori’s eyes were dull and dark, staring at the rocks, at his feet, at the sky – anything that wasn’t in Kili’s direction. Already, Kili grew nervous again, he started to ramble and fill in those patches of awkward silence where his inner voice started to gnaw at him. _He doesn’t like you anymore. He just doesn’t want to hurt your feelings. He doesn’t even want to touch you. He thinks you’re disgusting._

By the time they reached Ori’s front door, Kili’s hands were shaking and he fought back more tears. Ori just looked tired. Kili stood before him, his hands falling to his sides in a stiff awkwardness and he didn’t know what to do. Was Ori just placating him? Now would be his chance to say he was busy, that Kili had to go home and he didn’t know when he could come back. Kili waited for Ori to speak, heart throbbing in his throat.

“I wish I could stay out longer.” He swallowed and Kili felt a long, slow wave of fear roll up through him. “I have to work at the restaurant again tonight.” Ori ventured a smile. “But... I’ll see you tomorrow?” Kili’s stomach flip-flopped at the upwards inflection, and as Ori kissed him on the cheek, he thought for a second he was going to explode.

“Yes. Yes of course. I’ll be there, waiting I promise you.” Ori’s shy smile grew rested on his face and he wrapped his arms around Kili’s shoulders. “I promise.” Kili hugged him back, squeezing until Ori was gasping from the lack of air. “Tomorrow.”

Kili walked home quickly, going through the threads of everything in his mind. Every touch, every look, every word, Kili picked it all apart and he wondered if maybe, just _maybe_ the two of them would be all right. It made Kili sick to remember how Ori looked at him, with his face crumpling. It wasn’t just the horror of what Kili had done, it was a heavy, resigned confirmation of something he had always been afraid of. Kili clenched his hands into fists, stopping for a moment in the middle of the street. Dori and _Fili_ and a dozen other dwarves besides, they had all warned Ori about him, told the scribe to stay away. His own brother betrayed him, tried to sabotage him, and Kili’s fury started to spread.

It was _different_ now, couldn’t they see that? Couldn’t they recognise the smile when Kili would talk about him, the red face and the averted eyes, that told so much more than his usual confident swagger? Did they all think so _little_ of him, that they would go behind his back and try to pull Ori away? How long had it been going on, this nosing about behind the scenes, pulling and poking and prying. How many young boys and girls had Fili cornered and scared away?

By the time he made it home, Kili had worked himself up into a frantic, bitter fury. He pushed open the front door with a slam and found his family sitting in the front room; Dis up to her elbows in flour and dough, Thorin sitting on the spindly chair by the stove with a pipe between his teeth, and Fili at the table, darning a shirt. His lip curled into a snarl and he strode right towards his brother, the three jumping at the sudden noise.

“Where do you get off,” Kili pointed right at Fili “going behind my back and gossiping about me to _Ori_ , huh?” The wide eyes narrowed into a little frown.

“Kili, look—”

“Don’t try that on me!” Kili slammed his fist on the table. “You told him to stay away from me! Why do you have to _meddle_ , Fili? Why can’t you just leave me alone!”

“Oh dear, boys, not now.” Dís wiped her sticky, powdery hands on her apron. “Please, Thorin has a headache.”

“Why do you do this to me?” Kili ploughed on, not heeding his mother. “Why are you _always_ trying to ruin things for me!”

“Ruin things for you?” Fili shot back indignantly, standing up. “I was just letting Ori know what he was in for, when he started seeing you. You’re _going_ to break his heart, everybody knows it, it’s just a matter of time before you screw this up and ruin it, and Ori is too good for that! He’s a sweet kid, and he deserves more than some lusty dwarrow trying to jump his bones.”

“You-!” Furious, Kili lunged at his brother, but he was stopped by his mother, the dam’s strong hands holding him in place. “Mama, let me go!”

“The both of you _stop_ this ridiculousness.” Thorin boomed over the brothers. “Kili, calm _down_ , for goodness’ sake, or you will spend the evening in your room.”

“Why do you treat me like a _child!_ ” Indignant, Kili turned his anger to his uncle. “You can’t send me to my room, I’m forty-seven!”

“Are you?” Thorin unkindly shot back, exasperated. “Because you _behave_ like a dwarrow of thirty, refusing to work, carrying on at all hours and hanging off the arm of Mahal knows how many dwarves and dams. I’ll treat you like an adult Kili, when you learn to grow up and stop acting like a spoiled brat!”

“ _Thorin!_ ” Dís gasped at her brother. Kili was left totally speechless for a stunned moment, the hurt of Thorin’s words cutting into him. He pulled away from his mother with a choked gasp, eyes stinging in his admonished humiliation.

“ _I_ _hate you all!”_ Kili shouted with all the strength he could muster, stamping his too-small boots on the floorboards as he marched towards his shared room. He slammed the door shut with a force that made the wall shake and the hinges squeak painfully. With his breath heaving, Kili leaned against the door, staring up at the ceiling.

“The both of you, really!” Kili held his breath and listened, to the rest of his family, only a room away in the little house.

“He needed to hear it Mama!”

“The lad’s right, Dís. It’s high time he grew up and started doing something with his life. I don’t like the way he carries on like this, it’s unbecoming...” Not wanting to hear anymore, Kili trudged across the room and threw himself down on the bed. He had that heavy, achy tiredness that came with a hard night of drinking, a long walk home, and very little sleep. Kili buried his face in the pillow and screamed in his frustration, his throat raw and head pounding. He hated them all. Fili for being a priggish snake, Thorin for being cruel and heartless, and his Mama for standing back and letting the two of them attack him.

His heart hurt in the shame and guilt, the accusations striking a chord deep within him – not because they were particularly hurtful or nasty, but because every single word the both of them had uttered was entirely true.


	5. Chapter 5

It was three weeks before Kili properly spoke to his brother again. Both were incredibly stubborn at the best of times, and with Kili feeling wronged and Fili insisting (through Mama) that he was entirely justified, it seemed neverending. Kili moaned about his brother to Ori all the time, criticising all the little things he would do and say which now grated on him. He left his socks on Kili’s side of the room. He ate the last of the pottage before Kili got up one morning. He did all the Sunday chores because Kili ‘wasn’t any good at them anyway’ and made Mama cross. Ori sat and listened with a muted smile on his face, their hands clasped, and as Kili paused to draw breath he noted, with a sad little murmur, that he wished he had Nori around more, and he wouldn’t even mind being picked on, not a bit.

That shut Kili up.

One morning, the two of them were forced to talk. Mama sent them out fishing in the deep stretch of river at the bottom of the valley, beneath a cluster of overhanging willows. It took an hour to walk there and neither said a word to each other, staring gloomily down at their shoes and kicking at loose rocks. They stretched out on the bank, cast their lines, and waited, cross-armed, watching the glassy water pucker and shimmer with a falling leaf, a trembling breath of wind, a little swirling current. They sat until the sun was spotting through the trees on the grass. It was mid-morning and the cicadas were starting up.

Eventually, Fili spoke. “Summer Festival next week.” His voice sounded disused. He cleared his throat and looked awkwardly down at his hands. “Reckon you’ll go?”

“Not with _you._ ” Kili wrinkled his nose, picking at a dandelion on the grassy riverbank. It wasn't even for Dwarves, it was the Men that held it at the beginning of every summer in Stonegrove and everyone in Belegost always went along to see the sights. Ori probably knew all about whatever deity it was supposed to honour. All that mattered to Kili was the drinking and dancing, and the dark corners everywhere were two young lovers could hide away, out of sight while the town burst in celebration. Fili sighed. “But yeah, maybe. I’ll see if Ori wants to go.”

“I used to love the festival.” He murmured. “The lights and food and dancing… And remember that year when we had fireworks? It was like the stars were on fire and falling out of the sky.” Blonde curls rustled as he shook his head. “Now it just seems like a thing for kids and couples.”

“I still like it.” Kili pulled at the dandelion head, getting pollen all over his fingers. Fili snorted.

“You were always gone well before midnight, off with some young thing while everyone was in one place.” Kili frowned at him. “It must have been ten years since you sat through ‘til midnight.”

“Everybody our age does, you dunce.” He threw the half-picked dandelion at his brother. “You just stand with Thorin and Dwalin pretending to be a grown-up. I can’t stomach them for more than five minutes, they’re _so_ boring, talking about coal reserves and building developments. It makes me sleepy just thinking about it.”

“It’s important.” Fili threw the dandelion back, his voice sharp like he was scolding a child. “Thorin wants me to start giving me responsibilities, bring me to things and ask for my advice. I can’t be like you, out at all hours and coming home smelling of the drink with that stupid grin on your face.”

“I haven’t been drunk in weeks.” Kili’s fingers sifted through the grass, closing around a stone. “And I don’t go out all night that often either. I’m _much_ better but you haven’t even noticed.”

Then Fili did something completely unexpected. He reached out and squeezed him on the arm for just a moment. “I noticed.”

Kili’s line started dancing then, and he jumped down to fetch it. Fili hovered behind him, offering help but Kili shrugged him away and hauled the fish in on his own, while Fili crouched at the water’s edge with a net. It was a beautiful trout, at least seven pounds after gutting and cleaning. He reset the line while Fili killed the trout quickly and sat back down with his legs stretched out, watching his brother slice up the fish’s belly and start to pull it’s insides out.

It was second nature to the both of them, and after a minute or so, Fili looked up, hands covered in gore. “So everything is all right with Ori then?”

A smile light up on Kili’s face at the mention of his name. He ducked his head and nodded, twirling a blade of grass around his finger. “It’s good.” Brown eyes remained trained on his hands. He knew better than to tell Fili about what happened several weeks ago and confirm all those stupid presumptuous suspicions. But he wanted to say _something_. There was a different tone in Fili’s voice. He didn’t sound disparaging or arrogant or snarky at all. He sounded as though he wanted to listen. “We’re good. I see him a lot and we haven’t had any big fights. He’s talking about having me over for dinner one night, when Dori’s in a good mood, so I can meet him properly.”

“Wow, meeting Dori. That’s a big step.” With his tongue between his teeth, Fili frowned. “Can you hold this open? Got to get the guts out and I don’t want it to pop.”

“‘Course.” Kili crouched down beside him, holding the fish open while Fili reached in.

“So you’ll be taking him to the festival then. I hope you’re not going to bring him home when no one’s around so you can use the bed.” Kili laughed and shook his head.

“No. We haven’t really done anything yet.”

“Really?” Fili’s hands fell still. “What do you mean anything? All the way or – actually don’t tell me. I don’t want to know what my brother’s up to in bed.”

“By anything I mean nothing.” Kili’s little smile faded. “Just kissing. Haven’t even tried to take his pants off yet.”

“It’s been two months.” Fili blinked. “It usually takes you all of a week and if you’re shut out, you just move on to the next one.” He picked up the pace in his hands again, but there was still a slight frown knitting his brows together.

“Well - we haven’t all right?” Kili replied, a little tetchy. “It’s not lack of trying, he’s just… not ready for that. He’s still a virgin you know. We’re taking things slow.”

Their hands brushed, slick with fish blood. Fili sighed. “You really like him, don’t you.” Kili swallowed and looked up to see his brother looking him in the eye. He held his gaze, and nodded.

“I do. He’s – different, you know? He’s the sweetest boy I’ve ever met, really, and he’s _so_ smart. Smarter than you and Thorin and maybe even Balin.” He could feel his face growing hot. “He knows _everything_ about everything but you wouldn’t know it because he’s so soft-spoken. He’s never been rude to me, not once. He listens, and he’s never late, although I am a lot, but he doesn’t get mad at me at all. And - yeah, of course I want to take things there and it’s driving me crazy, but it’s still worth waiting to have him, y’know? He’s not the type I normally go for but - he’s just… perfect. In every way.” Fili’s frown had softened and there was a little smile on his face.

“I’m sorry Kili.” He murmured. “I got things wrong about you. But you can’t _blame_ me, I mean your record… It’s not great.”

“I know.” Fili pulled his hands out of the now-clean trout and Kili let go. “But I am serious about Ori, I promise. I’m not going to play games with him and break his heart.” His voice grew a little harder. “So don’t spread stories about me to _anyone_ , all right?”

“No more gossip.” Fili held out his sticky hand. “It’s awful when we fight isn’t it? I wish we didn’t.”

“You’ve changed your tune.”

“Well, someone has to be the bigger brother and apologise.” Kili wanted to punch him, really. Fili _always_ needed to have the last word, even when he was the one in the wrong. It wasn’t enough to just apologise, Fili just _had_ to let him know how great he was for doing it.

“Oh, stop being such a prig.” But Kili grasped his hand and shook it. Even though he was smiling, his heart was pounding and there was a trickle of sweat on his temple. Because he _had_ screwed up already, in the worst possible way and if Fili _ever_ knew he would be furious. Especially after this.

But it was all right. It happened, Kili was sorry, and Ori forgave him. It was weeks ago now, and neither of them had ever mentioned it again. Ori was almost back to the way he used to be, smiling and sweet and open. They survived, and if they could weather that storm, then they could weather anything.

* * *

Kili paced backwards and forwards outside the restaurant. The lights were out - like every other merchant on the street, Dori had shut up shop for the festival - and only a single candle burned through a tiny window in an upper attic-room. He stopped and arched his back, looking at the little square of light three stories up. Ori’s room. His stomach softened as he thought he caught the glimpse of a shadow moving in the light. One hand went to Kili’s pocket and he fumbled with the little box of cheap wood, just slightly thicker than paper. He swallowed a lump in his throat as the light disappeared, fumbling with his hair, fingering the scratch of stubble on his chin, making sure his shirt was straight and everything was nicely tucked in.

Oh _Mahal,_ Ori would be the death of him.

The door opened. Kili started, giving his shirt one final pat-down before flashing his traditionally cheeky smile, although this time it flickered with an edge of nervousness. See, he was going to sleep with Ori tonight, for the first time _ever_ , and Kili had laid everything out in his head to get Ori sweet on him, to warm him up to it and have him _wanting_ it. Everything had to go perfectly.

“Kili!” The ratty old scarf was gone. Kili remarked on it once, said the wool was wearing through and it was singed on one corner and unravelling and spotted with stains, and it was getting into summer and not even cold. Ori went red and quiet then, murmuring after a tense silence that it was the last thing his Mama knitted for him before she passed away that still fit. Kili apologised for his blunder, said it was lovely really, it brought out his eyes, but the damage was done and Ori didn’t wear it around Kili any more. “You’re early.” Kili must have caught him off-guard. He was breathless and smiling, eyes bright.

“I wanted to catch you here.” Kili greeted him with a kiss and pulled the little wooden box out of his pocket. “I got you something.” Ori took the gift with a little ‘o’ of surprise on his face. “I remember you seeing this at that night-market and you really wanted it - I hope I got the right one, it was a different stall-holder and I couldn’t really remember.” He babbled as Ori opened the lid.

“ _Oh.”_

“I just remember it had a funny name.” Ori lifted the little Elvish ship out of the box. “And I know you like Elves-- Oh no.” He caught the little frown of confusion on Ori’s face, and the moment of realisation. “I got the wrong one didn’t I?”

“Hm? Oh, no no, Kili it’s _beautiful_ , really—”

“But it’s not _right._ Give it back and I’ll see if I can swap it— _”_ Kili reached out and took it roughly in his frustration. Ori gasped and beneath Kili’s tight hold, they both heard the tiny cracking of wood. Kili groaned and slowly held it out, feeling sick. The matchstick-sized mast was snapped in two, the minute silken sail crumpling. “Oh _dammit!”_

“It’s all right - just give it back, I can fix it.” Ori took the tiny ship carefully, putting it back in the box. “It’s just a little break, I’ll have it right in a moment.” He rested on hand on Kili’s arm, the sympathetic smile sinking. “Oh - you’re shaking.” Ori rubbed Kili’s arm, clicking his tongue. “It’s fine Kili, I’m not upset.” But Kili just hung his head, feeling miserable. “Look - give me a moment,” Ori disappeared inside the house and returned a heartbeat later, presumably to put the little box away “It’s beautiful. I’m _so_ pleased, really.” He hugged Kili tightly. Kili returned the embrace, pressing his cheek against the crook of Ori’s neck, breathing in his sweet, sharp smell of wool and vellum and chamomile. “No one’s ever given me something so nice.”

“I’m sorry.” Kili mumbled against his shoulder, feeling stupid and childish. “I should have listened - I mean you went on and on about it but I was too busy poking my fingers around elsewhere.”

“It’s the thought that counts.” Ori announced. “And it’s a wonderful thought. And you’re right, I _do_ like Elvish things, and I think their ships are beautiful too. It’ll be pride of place in my room when it’s fixed I swear.” He pushed on Kili’s shoulders to encourage him to draw back, smiling. “Now. I think we have a festival to go to, don’t we?”

“Yes.” Kili flashed his own, a pale, trembling shadow as he tried to get a hold of himself. it was _all right_ , really. Kili was just jittery and his nerves on edge with the anticipation of tonight. It was setting him on fire.

Ori clasped his hand. “Then let’s go.”

* * *

It was _awful._

Kili dropped his food all over Ori’s lap. Then he knocked his ale over. When they tried to dance, his big clumsy boots stepped on Ori’s soft slippers and made the scribe cry out and have to sit down for a while. He tried to make a witty joke about dwarrowdams who remarry and Ori was incredibly insulted. It just got worse and worse, and as Kili tried harder and harder to smooth it all over, the tension grew until he was obviously overcompensating and he _knew_ it. He laughed too hard at Ori’s half-hearted jokes, apologised for too long and drew attention to Ori when it wasn’t wanted.

“I’m tired.” With his shirt stained, sitting down because one foot was throbbing and his face red and eyes downcast in his humiliation, Ori tried to put Kili out of his misery. “I-I think... I should go home.”

Kili’s eyes stung. He walked Ori home with gritted teeth, looking away in case Ori saw his face. They didn’t hold hands. Ori cleared his throat, tried several stop-start attempts at conversation and got nothing back. By the time they stood in front of Ori’s house, Kili sank into a deep, scowling funk and Ori was almost too terrified to speak. He paused for a few moments, fumbling with his sleeve and drawing in a breath.

“Well – thank you.” He looked up, tried to smile. Kili only nodded silently. “I had f-... well. It was good to see you again.” He briefly touched Kili’s shoulder. “I’m busy all day tomorrow, and the day after, but after _that_ , I’ll see you like normal, all right?” Ori forced another one of those painful, pitying smiles.

“Yeah.” Kili’s voice was rough, lips still in a scowl. He was _furious_ with himself, almost too mad to speak and he kept his hands clenched into fists. “I’ll see you then.” Ori nodded, withdrawing inside, a vanishing shadow, and shut the door.

As soon as he was alone, Kili let out a low groan. He kicked hard at the wall, hurting his foot and holding his toes with a hiss of pain. He sank to his knees and leaned against the wall, grabbing handfuls of his hair. _Stupid, stupid stupid. Stupid!_ Kili shook his head and took in a deep breath, feeling the frustration bubble up in his throat. Why was tonight so _horrible?_ It started with that stupid, wrong boat and all went downhill from there. Kili couldn’t do _anything_ right. Everything he said was idiotic and clumsy, everything was dropped and spilled and tipped over and he became an absolute mess. Everything was supposed to go perfectly. He was finally going to have Ori, truly and completely, but instead he was out here, alone and cold in the dark with Ori miserable and humiliated and confused. Kili wiped at his stinging eyes with the back of his wrist, shaking his head. _How_ could he be such an idiotic dunce?

Oh, hell. Kili swallowed and stood up, craning his neck up at Ori’s little window. It was bathed in light, and Kili swore he could see the vague shapes of Ori getting ready for bed. Things couldn’t be left like this, all stiff and awkward. They couldn’t stew in it for days and days and then come back to normal. He crouched down, searching for a few stones. When he had a handful, Kili stepped back, looking from side to side to make sure the street was abandoned before drawing his arm back and firing.

Kili was a great shot – his archery took care of that – but the window was _so_ tiny and high up. The first stone missed. The second stone hit the casement. So did the third and fourth, and with his hands empty Kili stood and waited for that shadow to move and solidify. Finally, Ori opened the casement, hands gripping the windowsill with a little frown, peering down into the dark street.

“Hello?” Of course. Down here, Kili was invisible. He took another step towards the house, waving his arms as though that would work. “Who’s there?”

“It’s me!” Kili hissed in the dark. He watched the outline of Ori seize up.

“Kili? Wh-what is it?”

“I’m sorry.” Kili cupped his hands around his mouth in an obvious not-whisper that carried along down the street. “I was a total pig tonight, stepping on you and spilling everything. And I’m sorry for what I said about your Mama, it wasn’t nice. I’m sure she was lovely.”

“Oh, _Kili.”_ Ori leaned on the windowsill. “You idiot.” He shook his head, with a little half-laugh that drifted down to the ground.

“You forgive me, don’t you?” Kili clasped both hands together. “I know I’m mucking everything up – but I swear I won’t be in a funk like that again. I just wanted the night to go well, you know, I thought that – well, nothing really.”

“Oh – just wait there, all right? Don’t go anywhere.” And then Ori was gone, the window shut and light vanishing. With his heart in his mouth, Kili waited, digging a booted foot into the paved street. The front door shortly opened, and there he was, with one of his lumpy cardigans thrown over a nightshirt and a candle in his hand.

“I’m sorry.” Kili rushed at him again, grabbing his free hand. “Forgive me – I was such a fool—”

“I know, it’s all right. Of course I forgive you.” That misery had melted in Ori’s face and he was giving one his shy, lip-biting looks, with his hunched shoulders. It left Kili’s heart racing. “Come on.” He stepped aside, exposing the open doorway. “Before you wake up everyone in the street.”

Kili held his breath as he stepped inside Ori’s house. This was _never_ how he expected he would come inside for the first time. He expected a grilling from Dori, some painful traditional dinner filled with awkward conversation. Sneaking in the dark like this felt like cheating. Ori closed the door behind him and jerked his head in the direction of the stairs. “C’mon.” He started his way up the narrow staircase, ducking his head from a low beam. Kili followed wide-eyed, scarcely daring to believe it. _Was Ori inviting him up to his room?_

It didn’t mean _that_. It couldn’t. No, not Ori, cold as ice from the waist down who didn’t even kiss Kili if he wasn’t prompted. There was _no_ way someone as shy and repressed as him would just invite someone up willy-nilly, especially with the house dark and foreboding like this, when Dori could come home at any moment...

But it was. It was _really_ happening. Ori led him through the restaurant, up the back stairs, above the upstairs apartment where they lived, up and up to the third floor, accessed by a ladder into a hole in the ceiling. Ori went first and Kili second, with his bare feet just six inches above Kili’s face. He could make out the shape of Ori’s legs up to the knee in the residual light of the candle, knobbly and bony and scattered with soft, gingery hair. Kili _ached_ to run his hands over them.

“Watch your head.” Ori warned as Kili popped his head up. “It’s the best place to talk. I can always hear Dori coming from a mile off up here.” He explained, setting the candle down beside his bed. Kili looked quickly around the room, taking it all in. A slanted roof that went all the way down to the floor, a bed pushed up against one wall and a stool beside it, and a tiny chest at the foot. It was small, well-kept and plain, exactly how Kili thought Ori’s room would look. “You can hear every footstep. Drives me mad when the place is busy but it’s wonderful at night when I’m reading and should be asleep.” Ori sat on the edge of his bed, a rough, narrow thing of mismatched wood that was low on the ground. He patted the bed beside him and with his heart thudding, Kili silently obeyed, watching Ori’s face in the candlelight. He stared down at his clasped hands for a moment, obviously working up the courage to talk.

“So um – what was wrong tonight?” He finally spoke up, nibbling on his lower lip. “It’s not just the boat, even before then you were all tense. You’re never early.”

“I was a right rat, wasn’t I.” Kili stared down at their legs. The hem of Ori’s nightshirt was six inches above his knee, exposing more of that wonderful skin for the very first time. Oh it wasn’t fair. He looked away and took in a calming breath. “I just... really wanted tonight to be a good night. I didn’t want anything to go wrong and somehow everything did.” He shook his head. “I acted like such a fool.”

“You were nervous, it’s all right.” Ori rubbed Kili’s knee, trying to be comforting. Kili swallowed hard, curling his toes at the sensation. Oh, that was stirring up all the _wrong_ sort of feelings. “Things _have_ been going well, for the most part, haven’t they? I mean – we have lots of fun, and I like spending time with you Kili, really. You’re really sweet sometimes, even if you can be a bit of an ass.” His hand fell still on Kili’s leg but the touch was still soft and reverent. “It’s so much better than I thought it would be – being with you I mean. I’m so glad.” He looked at Kili now, not with that normal quiet shyness but with a wide smile, his eyes soft in the candlelight and crinkling at the corners.

Kili’s breath stuck in his throat. He couldn’t speak for a moment. His chest was constricting, his heart throbbed and _everything_ just felt far too tight, right down to his boots. The warmth swelled, rolled up and down in his body, concentrated right in his gut. It was like he had swallowed sunshine. His stomach felt soft and liquid and _gooey_ , not like it ever had before and before Kili realised what had happened, his mouth was open and he was talking.

“I love you.” He blurted it out in a stumbled rush, realising with horror the moment the words had been spoken, just what he had done. Ori’s mouth fell open and he made a little strangled noise in the base of his throat. Kili sprang back, clapping his hands over his mouth. “No – I mean I love spending _time_ with you, not you, I-I mean I _like_ you, you’re wonderful and sweet and kind and it’s not that I _don’t_ love you but – oh Mahal stop talking, stop talking.” His head swam and ears were ringing with that horrible, shocking nervous guilt of someone who had been caught making an awful mistake. What was he _thinking_ , blurting that out so quickly? It had only been two months and Mahal, Kili didn’t even know how he felt about Ori, just that it was sickly-sweet and wonderful, but it was _not_ love – how could it be, they hadn’t even slept together yet, Kili didn’t even _know_ him, or what they would be like together, he hadn’t met his brother and it was so soon, he didn’t love Ori, he _didn’t._

“I have to go.” Kili jumped up from the bed, panting. How was it so _hot_ in here, it was like a furnace. Kili’s shirt was sticking to his back. He tried to walk blindly, just wanting to get away and out of here, away from Ori and that strange face he was making, away from this mistake because he _knew_ Ori was going to say it was too soon for Kili to know yet, and he was too young, and anyway someone like Kili didn’t know the meaning of the word, much less how to use it, and he was going too fast and it was all going to be ruined and he was only saying that because he felt awful about how poorly the night had gone. He couldn’t hear any of that so he tried to cross the room in a hurry, forgetting how awkward and slanted the ceiling was.

“Kili—” Ori gasped, but he was too late. There was an awful, sharp pain on the top of Kili’s head, and he was thrown back, stumbling in his confusion, landing with a cry on the uneven floorboards. He plastered a hand automatically to his head and with a gasp his fingers came away already wet with blood.

“Oh no are you all _right?”_ Ori was on his knees beside Kili, one hand on his shoulder, the other gently touching the top of his head. “That ceiling is lethal, I know. Ooh, it’s not too bad, don’t worry. It’s just a graze, no hair came out and head wounds always bleed like the dickens.” Kili’s breathing was short and shallow. His head throbbed.

“I’m sorry.” He finally gasped. Kili grunted in pain and with a little sigh of concern, Ori rested his hand gently on his jaw, coaxing Kili to look him in the eye. “Look at me, I want to make sure your sigh is fine.”

With his heart painfully tight and the humiliation overwhelming, Kili regretfully opened his eyes. Ori’s concerned face hovered just six inches from his own, more than close enough for him to kiss. That was the last thought on his mind at this moment. His stupid, stumbled confession still boomed in his ears, the embarrassment tearing into him with each racing heartbeat. “Come on, up.” Ori had a hand on his arm, helping him up. Kili staggered to the bed and fell down, feeling the earth roll beneath his feet. He wasn’t sure if it was the headache or mortification that did it.

“I’m going to get some vinegar and a cloth. Don’t move.” He patted Kili on the arm and then he was gone. Kili groaned and leaned forward, resting his forehead on his arm. He tried to breathe through the constriction in his chest, the throbbing of his head. _How in Mahal’s name could be so stupid?_ Saying he loved Ori – how could he be such a fool? And then to hit his head like that – on the _ceiling_ – Kili’s groan grew louder and he tried to burrow into the privacy of his arm, his face tomato-red and humiliation making his skin damp and clammy.

“Don’t worry, this will clean it right up.” Ori reappeared with a small clay bowl and sat on the edge of the bed. “Lie down, facing me so I can get at it.” Kili sent him a mistrusting glance but slowly obeyed, lying on his stomach with his face turned towards Ori. He didn’t look at him though. He kept his eyes distinctly downcast, at the vague shapes of Ori’s bare knees. No, that didn’t help either. Kili squeezed his eyes shut and bit back a whimper as the vinegar-soaked cloth was pressed against his throbbing head. “Good.” Ori murmured and with a fresh little knife-wound throbbing, Kili realised that Ori’s hand was shaking.

He blotted carefully at the wound, thoughtful and silent. Kili lay with his eyes closed, wondering what to say, how to say it, or if he should just keep his mouth shut and enjoy it. Pride won out in the end. “I didn’t mean it.” He mumbled. Ori fell still. “Ignore me, I didn’t mean it.”

“O-Oh...” After a pause, Ori started up again, wringing out the cloth and pressing it freshly against his head. Kili heard him take in a breath, the sort that you made before you jumped into a pond of cold water or put a bet worth more money than you had. “You know... I wouldn’t mind if you did.”

There was a flash of white behind Kili’s eyes, as he screwed them up very very tight. The full force of Ori’s words crashed into him. Did... Did Ori feel the same way? Did Ori love _him_ too? No. Not after what Kili had done, after going off on that wild night and then acting like a selfish prig tonight. There was no _way_ – he was just trying to be nice. Kili didn’t deserve that sort of niceties and he opened his mouth to say so then and there, but when that seal of his lips parted, Kili found he couldn’t get the words out. He couldn’t get _anything_ out. Not just yet.

“W-Well maybe I did then.” Kili turned his face in and murmured the words against the pillow. The bloodflow had mainly stopped and Ori was no longer blotting at him. Instead he now stroked Kili’s hair, fingers skimming over the damp locks, gently pressing against his ungrazed scalp. Kili felt exhausted. He felt as though he could fall asleep at any moment, even though the mattress was lumpy and too thin and stuffed with cheap straw, he was so tired and like this, with Ori touching him, with his whispered confession that he _loved_ Ori hanging in the air, and Ori accepting it, despite every awful thing that Kili had already done in just the last two months.

He turned his face back onto its side. With an eyebrow raised, Kili looked up at Ori, who wore the strangest expression on his face, as though he longed for something just beyond his grasp. He caught Kili looking at him and his face broke into a smile, simple and warm and happy. And with the painful throbbing in his head fading to a dull ache, Kili smiled back.


End file.
